


Yet Both In Pain

by TLara (larissabernstein)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, KiSCon, M/M, Mind Meld, Star Trek III: The Search for Spock, Zine, Zine: KiSCon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larissabernstein/pseuds/TLara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tragic events require special measures: like melding with James T. Kirk, the epitome of Human illogic and challenge to the Vulcan mind. But what begins as a search for information, becomes a trip into an unknown land of desperate beauty.</p><p>First published in "KiScon 2012. The Official Zine" (Editor: arminaa), June 2012.</p><p>Beta reader: eimeo.</p><p>Accompanying art: ShirAmber.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yet Both In Pain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fugitive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fugitive/gifts).



 

 

**YET BOTH IN PAIN**  
  
**by T'Lara**  
  
  
Entering James T. Kirk’s mind is like falling through the rabbit hole.  
  
He has never given much thought to that particularly illogical image, apart from pushing it away for good into the part of his brain which is dedicated to general irritating Human concepts under the excuse of artistic freedom, and the significantly bigger part of his brain which deals with the eccentric behaviour of his Human family members under the excuse of creativity and healthy fantasy. And reading stories about picturesque trips through mirrors into lands of sentient playing cards and giant anthropomorphic rabbits with pocket watches definitely belongs in this category. Still, when Spock was a child, Lady Amanda loved to read these fantastic stories to him, openly provoking her husband and challenging the Vulcan nanny whose acute sense of hearing made them part of the audience regardless whether they wanted to listen or not. Then, those “bedtime stories” seemed to be a waste of time and resources to him, but a strange power made it impossible for him to stop her. Was it her glowing cheeks, her eyes shining with joy and love?  
  
Now, the very minute he slips into the other man’s mind, he immediately remembers the colourful images Amanda used to paint many years ago. This is of course not his first mind meld and Kirk is not his first Human meld partner. He should know better than to be frightened by a man who is surely not a stranger to him or even an enemy. After all, Kirk agreed quickly when he asked him for his thoughts, the hesitation one could expect from a member of a non-telepathic species only worth a moment — visible but no obstacle to the important request that must have sounded more like a command than a plea to the Human ear: “I must have your thoughts.” It was logical to word the necessity, and yet, Kirk of all people would have been able to refuse such a command or at least question it, but instead his consent came natural — trepidation did not worst reason. Or maybe his words, fed by urgency and an anger that was not so much directed at Kirk but at the universe on the whole, seemed so desperate to the Human that he could not help but comply? He hurried to add a politer “May I join your mind?” to soften the command and cover his own despair, but indeed this question was superfluous.  
  
The skin under his fingers that are now settled on the meld points and tremble almost imperceptibly feels hot — feverish — and slightly damp. While he is gazing into hazel eyes that are so full of a childlike trust that easily renders any ritual words at the beginning of the meld obsolete, and an unspoken fear that he cannot quite explain away only with the usual Human view of telepathic contact, he not so much glides but is pulled into this mind so easily that it comes as shock. He closes his eyes and is falling through a seemingly endless tunnel full of living pictures, some faded and weak, some more vibrant and buzzing with energy, vast knowledge and experience mixed with memories that are obviously more of a private nature than relevant to duty — in whatever direction he looks he moves inside a synaesthetic kaleidoscope unlike any other mind, Human or not, he has ever encountered. He tries to focus on the task at hand, he must seek out the vital information without violating Kirk’s privacy — or at least without violating it more than necessary. The mind is the most intimate part of a sentient being for a reason, it is what constitutes a person, gives the fleeting perceptions and impressions their continuity and self-reflectivity, weaves ideas and experiences into an individual self. Kirk’s self _is_ his ship and crew, this much is clear at first sight, his duty and profession are inseparably connected to his innermost thoughts and feelings. Never before has it been this difficult not to commit trespassing on sacred ground. How should he ever find the path to that which he seeks, without betraying one of the most important and honoured principles of the Vulcan way?  
  
“Sarek!”  
  
Kirk’s voice calls him and he cannot tell if it is an acoustic perception or the soundless voice of his mind. It does not matter though, as one is just as real as the other.  
  
“Ambassador, don’t worry — do what you must and look for it. If it is there, I will give it to you freely.” It is reassurance from someone who does not understand what he is saying, spoken in friendship and loyalty to a dead comrade. But this — this is not someone, this is Admiral James T. Kirk, who has been famous for his courage since the day he stepped aboard a starship for the first time, who has known Spock as no other being might have known him — well, maybe except Amanda — and who has surely experienced a number of mind melds with Spock in the line of duty. Sarek must trust his assessment, just as Kirk must trust him not to misuse it.  
  
His own hesitation and nervousness under control, he dives deeper into the kaleidoscope of memories, thoughts and feelings that is James Kirk. Spock must have melded with him quite often, Sarek notices with surprise, as there are his son’s marks and traces left wherever he turns to. Just as he has pulled him into his inner world before, again the Admiral helps him out now by showing him his last and darkest memory of Spock. Slumped against a barrier of transparent aluminium that is smudged by lacerated flesh, bereft of his eyesight, each word a pained moan hardly filled with breath.  
  
“He spoke of your friendship …,” Sarek says aloud and in their minds at once, and just as soon as the word is out he realises how inadequate it is. A golden glow surrounds the darkest and most painful memory like a halo of denial. _Friendship_ , the word reverberates in their joined minds, and single fragments of this very friendship, mere glimpses of which he has seen earlier when he fell down this rabbit hole, appear more clearly and more pronounced, as if they wanted to show him just how unique this companionship has been, each of them bathed in the same golden glow that seems oddly familiar to Sarek, each one replacing another, cross-fading and overlapping each other in a battle of memories, united in their common aim to drown out the death scene among them.  
  
_When I feel friendship for you I am ashamed_ , an un-Vulcanly sobbing Spock admits, and Sarek cannot help but feel pangs of … something, not at the blatant display of emotion but at the idea that Spock felt it necessary to fight such a noble deed. And here … — here they are saving each other’s life and taking bullets and arrows and phaser shots for the other, but here — together on the unforgiving sands of Vulcan in a fight none of them asked for and … — _Jim!_ And the golden glow grows stronger and stronger.  
  
There is resistance now from Kirk which has the same aura as his fear earlier, but Sarek cannot stop here, not after all he has seen so far. He is so close to finding that which he seeks, it must be here, kept safe and stored somewhere in this strange golden glow! And the thousands of fragments, first scattered like the shards of Alice’s looking glass over the vast land of an all too dynamic mind, now dance and whirl around, silencing Kirk’s protests. And Sarek could not stop the fall now if he wanted to. The scenes and moments call out to them and Spock, Spock, Spock — Spock is everywhere, behind the chess boards, crouched in a cave, at the captain’s table in the mess, on a bio-bed in sickbay next to a vigil-keeping Kirk, in his arms on the observation deck … And — _Your son meant more to me than you can know._ More than the son would have been comfortable letting his father know.  
  
The grief is overwhelming. An utter feeling of loss cuts into Sarek’s soul, fuelled by a new realisation that is already more than a suspicion, and finds its echo in Kirk’s own inner self.  
  
“He asked you not to grieve …,” Sarek says, but there is no power behind these words, as they drift through Kirk’s living room to disperse like a katra lost to the world. But there is grief, and it is the grief of separation and solitude, the grief of a lover and friend, and the grief of a father who has lost his son more than once.  
  
Two scenes spring to life in rich, aching details blending sorrow with sorrow, remorse with remorse: Spock leaves him without turning back, shedding his former life like old, too-tight skin, to take a shuttle to Earth … no, to Vulcan … and become a student at Starfleet Academy … no, an acolyte of Gol … and to betray the Vulcan way that he has taught him with his best intentions … no, the Human and his ways that were paved with the best intentions … to embrace his emotional, illogical, Human side … no, to purge himself of emotions and a certain illogical Human. Pain and grief remain, only to be covered up with faux self-righteousness and stolidity. Go, Spock, go, and don’t think we will miss you! Dare to leave me, but don’t you ever think you can return!  
  
No, the house is lonely and the heart forlorn, the mirror shattered. And it is of no relevance who is to blame and what went wrong when cold darkness creeps into wounds that will not heal.  
  
The scenery changes into a shadow play. _Your mind called mine across the galaxy, t’hy’la._ Pale and thin, not the same man. A shadow back from a cathartic underworld, rising to the light once more, back where he belongs, at home at last … No, not at home. This simple feeling is more than a failed father can ask for. At the very least from a son who is estranged enough to keep his relationship with James Kirk a secret from his family.  
  
There is not a trace of resistance left as Sarek lifts the veils and lets the scenes unfold before his eyes. Has he ever known his son? Who is this man in the picture who seems so familiar but yet so different from the son he thought to know? Amidst Kirk’s mind, a new and hitherto unknown Spock has appeared, epitome of all the missed chances to be part of this life and its … joys and sorrows. An insight into another being’s mind has given him back — no, has introduced him for the first time with his own flesh and blood. And all this only to lose him again?  
  
_Parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched._ And brown eyes shining with joy and love is all Kirk can see and Sarek can grieve for because he never knew them. The aethereal glow that has connected the single Spock-elements in Kirk’s wonderland is blinding now, growing into a full bond of …  
  
… torn ends swaying helplessly in an afterglow’s void. The warp core chamber is filled with blinding light that Spock cannot see anymore but Kirk’s eyes are wide open now and reflect the dancing flames of his fireplace like a helpless mirror as he and Sarek voice the dying man: “The needs of the many outweigh …” And the flower aims its poisonous darts at Kirk and he jumps in front of … “the needs of the few …” And the bridge gasps as the door opens to reveal the black-clad shadow but Kirk has just begun to believe in miracles … “or the one …” And there can and will be no other now when two halves of one soul come together.  
  
_Jim!_ And Kirk feels himself turned around by strong arms … “Spock!” A plea, almost inaudible, but there is so much more to say and feel and convey which is strong enough to pass the looking glass that divides a touchless caress … stronger than a katra would have been to find a safe haven in the beloved one. So Spock’s katra, his very essence, is lost, thrown away with its mauled bodily shell on a planet that is as new to the universe as is this son to his ignorant father — ?  
  
Sarek hears his own voice shaking and breaking as Spock’s last words flow through him: “I have been … and always shall be … your friend. Live long … and prosper!”  
  
_I shall do neither. I have killed my captain … and my friend._ The red sands are soaked with sweat and blood and unshed tears. It is over, he has lost the one.  
  
“No!” An outcry from the depths of love that was hidden in the soft exhalation of incredulousness then and still is, but overtakes the inner world now as a fierce battle cry. No, it must not be lost! The glass be damned that kept them apart!  
  
But it is not here. Spock’s katra had no chance to join its t’hy’la’s but it left the imprints of their life together, which Sarek inhales and drinks in deeply before he breaks the meld to find himself back in his own mind and his own solitude. But the devastating grief is no longer only his to carry. It has, however, doubled for both of them.  
  
“I see,” Sarek states and sounds so much elder than his years should allow, while he gently and comfortingly touches the arm of a silent Kirk who is not ready to face the night of reality yet, “And I understand.”  
  
  
  
And when they finally watch the security video together to find Spock storing his katra in Dr McCoy’s unconscious and unsuspecting figure on the floor, it goes without saying that hope is illogical but logic is not the end of wisdom.

 

 

Art by ShirAmber:  
  


 

 

  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://ksarchive.com/viewstory.php?sid=5196>


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